


1 Year, 10 Months, and 24 Days

by Lavanya_Six



Category: Worm (Web Serial Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavanya_Six/pseuds/Lavanya_Six
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor's downtime in exile. Or, missing moments with the Chicago Wards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 Year, 10 Months, and 24 Days

**i.**  
  
Winter comes early to Chicago, that first year.  
  
Brockton Bay's titular body of water had buffered my hometown against seasonal extremes. Not so Lake Michigan, which seems to exist simply to outdo the worst nature otherwise dishes out. Lake-effect snow. Stiff winds. It makes going outside unpleasant.   
  
Given I no longer have a secret identity, and Cuff can't show off any skin between her waist and jawline without exposing the jacket of burn scars she acquired in New Delhi, an excuse to bundle up should be a treat for us.   
  
Instead, we trudged along in dreary silence, heads down, flurries whirling around us.  
  
"The wind off the water smells weird," Cuff says all of a sudden.  
  
I have to actually look at her to see what she's doing, because the cold has killed most of the ambient bugs, and the rest are either in the sewers or stored in the backpack I'm wearing.  
  
"Yeah?" I ask, not sure where she's going. Months squatting in a wrecked city filled with rotting garbage, open graves, and broken sewers have ruined my sense of proportionality when it comes to bad smells.  
  
"No salt on it." Cuff casts a sidelong glance at me. "I grew up in Honolulu."

_Brockton Bay had a salt breeze too_ , I think. _I can still remember the taste of it._

"You mentioned that," I say.

But a street plough rumbles by, and nothing more is said.

 

* * *

  
**ii.**  
  
 _"—pledged no First Use of parahuman forces. Meanwhile, gunfire and shelling continues to be traded across the Korean Demilitarized Zone toni—"_  
  
Wanton turns off the television. "Fucking Simurgh."  
  
"Hey! I was watching that," I say.  
  
He holds the remote aloft in his non-prosthetic hand, waggling it at me with a smirk on his face. "Nuh uh uh! If you want to wrestle the cripple for it, go—waaaait." Wanton tosses it to me. "Forgot who I was talking to."

 

* * *

  
**iii.**  
  
Annex— _Kirk_ , I chide myself—comes back out on the balcony with two lemonades. Or so he tells me. They're dyed green like the river below.  
  
"So," he says, leaning his back against the railing, "you and Theo, huh?"  
  
"What about us?"  
  
"You know."  
  
He smiles, and his teeth stand out starkly against his dark skin. My heart jolts a little and not because of Kirk. I look away—suddenly, weirdly, flustered by a freshly jogged memory.  
  
"For two friends," Kirk says, "you two spend an awful lot of time alone, sparring. Just saying."  
  
"Jealous?"  
  
Where Brian was cut like a soldier, Kirk is far leaner. Not bad looking at all. But still a teammate.  
  
And a distraction.  
  
He snorts. "Pretty sure Theo doesn't bat for my team."  
  
...huh.

* * *

  
**iv.**  
  
The finest motherfucking pizza—Grace's description—in Chicago comes from some dive bar that I am pretty sure has to be buying off the health inspector, given the number of critters my power pings in the kitchen.  
  
I refrain from informing my teammates about that, however. No need to be a killjoy. Plus, it isn't like I haven't eaten worse food in hard times before.  
  
"Why's it sliced like that?" I ask.  
  
"Like what?" Grace pops a small corner piece into her mouth before our waiter has even begun serving the others their portion.  
  
The pizza is criss-crossed into dozens of small squares.  
  
"Stop being such a goddamn tourist, Ta—Anne," she says, catching herself on my cover identity at the last second. It, some makeup, and a change of clothes is good enough for a night out like this. "All pizza comes that way."  
  
"Language," Tecton cautions.  
  
"Unless you want to be a freak like Ava over that," she gestures to Cuff, "and get your pie slathered in pineapple and spam. Hey, what do they serve in Brockton Bay anyway? What your people's thing?"  
  
Theo and I share a look.  
  
Cuisine... did not spring to mind when thinking about Brockton Bay.  
  
"My dad only ever let us order veggie," Theo finally replies. "Never meat."  
  
Wanton leans over. "You know who else was a vegetarian?  _Hitler!"_  
  
"Yeah, I know. That's why my dad was one."  
  
All at once, everyone gets really quiet.  
  
"My family always got sausage and onions," I say, trying to plug the awkward silence.  
  
"Maybe you can take Theo's sausage," Wanton suggests. "He's not having any."  
  
Tecton whacks him upside the head for that.


End file.
